Homecoming and the Shadow of Chaos
The imperial forces steadily suppressed the Yellow Turbans scattered around Yingchuan and Chenliu. Waiting patiently in Chenliu, the refugees who had fled began trickling back one by one. Those who returned reclaimed their homes and the fields they would farm.
"Time to sell it all off again."
The desperation of refugees who had abandoned their wealth just to survive turned straight into profit for me. I methodically sold off the real estate I'd bought up, and before long, the rented warehouses were overflowing.
"My lord, that won't even cover opening the warehouse doors."
"Wasn't it originally mine? I'll throw in an extra ten percent on top of the purchase price."
"It's mine now. If you're not buying at fair market value, don't come back."
Luxury goods like precious metals, jade pieces, and artwork only drew buyers willing to pay what I'd sold them for originally. Better to hold onto them than sell at a loss. Once the Yellow Turbans were crushed, their value was sure to rise anyway. And they were easier to transport back to Xu Province than real estate, so I didn't push those sales aggressively.
A month later, the caravan group that had gone to Luoyang returned to Chenliu. We confirmed everyone was safe and sound, exchanging relieved words.
"How was the road to Luoyang?"
"The imperial forces cleaned it up nicely—smooth sailing both ways."
Luoyang had been short on goods due to the Yellow Turbans, yielding fat profits. Even with rebellions flaring across the land, luxury items sold well—the capital was the capital, after all.
"What about the road back? Our scouts say Yellow Turbans are still thick out there."
"Same intel from our inquiries around Chenliu. Their numbers are down, but it's still dangerous."
Judging by the pace of suppression, we'd need to wait at least another month for safe passage. In the meantime, we hired extra escorts. We had no intention of suffering the same fate as the caravans that went ahead of us.
Three months after leaving home on business, we finally set out for Langya Commandery in Xu Province. The direct route was dangerous, so we mobilized our entire intelligence network to plot the safest path. We reduced the number of wagons and doubled the scouts to minimize detection risks. We cooked without fire whenever possible and avoided night marches. Thanks to our "better late than dead" mindset, the caravan made it home without major incidents.
"Thank goodness."
After four months away, the entire household came out to the gate to welcome us. I'd worried about a scolding for risky behavior, but their joy only made me feel guilty for nothing.
"Rest today. We'll talk tomorrow—you must be exhausted."
"Understood. Please handle the unpacking."
I gratefully accepted Father's consideration. Sleep hit me the moment I lay down; fatigue must have piled up more than I realized. I slept through the dawn rooster's crow and didn't wake until morning.
"The master says to come once you're ready."
"Got it. Tell him I'll be there soon."
I freshened up and headed to Father's chambers. Facing him after so long, he opened with a flood of questions.
"Tell me everything that happened."
I started by explaining why we hadn't rushed straight home from Chenliu.
"Yellow Turbans blocked the return routes—I didn't think the caravan could pass unscathed."
"Makes sense. Only about one-fifth of the group that left two months ago made it back."
When we'd checked in Chenliu, roughly half had returned, so more trouble must have followed. My group's casualties were under twenty—a stark contrast.
"When Yellow Turbans attacked, we sold grain and necessities while buying up real estate and luxuries. Once nearby rebels were crushed and people returned, we sold at full price for profit."
"Two rounds of arbitrage like that? Must've been a bumper harvest."
"Hard to tally exactly, but roughly sixty percent of our family assets."
Of course, we'd burned through plenty fighting Yellow Turbans too, so net gain was about twenty percent. And that was pooling funds with allied families—if we'd gone alone, we'd have lost money.
"I also took in survivors from attacked caravans. Selected the useful ones and framed it as compassion—no backlash."
"Good. I recognized a few familiar faces. They were talents I coveted—well done."
Father's praise confirmed I'd picked winners. We wrapped up the minor business chatter.
"Enough about trade. Let's talk something else."
Father shifted tone, changing topics. Only one non-business matter mattered.
"I heard you donated three hundred seok of grain to the imperial forces. Why?"
I hadn't breathed a word, so he'd asked the servants yesterday. No anger in his voice, though—not a reprimand.
"There's a great man I wish to serve. It was to build a connection."
"You made that golden rope as a boy. Can't we go it alone without following anyone?"
"We still need someone above to pull that rope."
"The court's handling the chaos—serving another could be seen as treason."
"Father, this Yellow Turban revolt is just the sky splitting into yellow and blue. It's only the beginning."
Our intel differed, so our views clashed. Father saw the Yellow Turbans as the big wave—enough to capsize a boat but not overrun the beach. If future chaos merely shook the Han, our current defenses would suffice.
"Factions will reject the court, tearing the heavens into dozens of shards. The turmoil I fear hasn't even started."
But I dreaded a tsunami swallowing the inland for miles. Starting with Yellow Turbans, toppling the state, lasting a century. Facing that with our preparations was like a mantis trying to stop a chariot.
"I say this with certainty: The palace will run red with blood, Luoyang a pyre. The realm becomes a slaughterhouse, lives cheaper than now."
I spoke without a shred of doubt. Father watched me, sighed, and said,
"You predicted the Yellow Turbans at that age, looking just like this. It must come true. This rebellion merely the start."
A massive future calamity? A sigh was natural—especially if this earth-shaking revolt was just the prelude.
After deep thought, Father asked,
"So, the one you follow is Jojo?"
"Yes."
"Families with better backgrounds exist. Like the Yuan clan, who've held the Three Excellencies."
He figured I chose for family ties. Logical—suddenly following a stranger? Ties made sense.
"No one in the Yuan clan is worth following."
Obviously, I picked Jojo for personal talent, not lineage. Yuan Shao was their best, but no match for Jojo—gold versus silver.
"How could I even knock on the Yuan gates?"
Lacking school ties, regional bonds, blood, networks, wealth, power, or name—getting hired by Yuan Shao was the real hurdle, not what I'd do under him.
Even if I got in, problems await.
Factional infighting under Yuan Shao was brutal, thanks to him. No Xu Province Langya strategists I'd mesh with anyway. Better to flee to Jing or Yi Provinces.
"How'd this meeting happen?"
"The stars aligned to show the way."
Bald-faced lie. An astrology illiterate like me reading the heavens?
"I see. If the stars say so, who am I to argue?"
Heaven's word? Mortals don't contradict. Astrology: the ultimate wildcard key.
"Enough for now. I need time to think alone."
"Understood."
Father rubbed his temples, dismissing me. Yellow Turbans were nothing; now true chaos loomed, and his second son pledged to another—headache inevitable.
While Father pondered, I headed out for long-overdue archery practice. Today, testing the repeating crossbow's tube support clip, I packed extra short arrows.
Gripping the bow frame's clip with my left hand, I loaded the tube onto it. This prototype felt surprisingly snug.
The mount's solid.
I felt the draw through my fingertips. Squinting at the straw target a hundred paces away—man-sized, but thumbnail-small at that distance.
*Ping!*
I loosed thirty in a row. A servant fetched the arrows, reporting,
"Ten hits. Of the twenty misses, recovered nineteen."
Without the clip, I'd hit eleven or twelve—ten was solid. Clip didn't hurt accuracy.
Practice mounted shooting later.
First, master the repeating crossbow to fifty percent. I fired another hundred, then headed home.
Four days after our chaos talk, Father summoned me again.
"Do you have a plan to weather the turmoil?"
Straight to it as I sat. I pondered, then shared my first idea.
"Raise a militia."
"A militia? Why?"
I outlined from the Ten Eunuchs' fall to the anti-Dong Zhuo coalition—ending with "the stars foretold it."
"So you'll join that traitorous alliance?"
"Jojo will join for sure. I'll follow with the militia then."
Father tsked at my bold asset gamble.
"Fine, hear out the full plan."
"Hire escorts as future drill instructors now. No big incidents for five years—build war funds through trade."
"Yellow Turbans still rampant—no incidents? They won't vanish overnight."
"They won't disappear in a night, but that momentum won't last the year."
Without absorbing elites, Yellow Turbans were doomed. History bore it: Zhang Jiao, Zhang Bao, Zhang Liang all dead by winter, rebels shattered.
"Remnants will linger, so escorts stay beefed up for trade."
Remnants kept rebelling, wrecking security—alive till at least 194, like weeds.
"Later, turn some escorts into instructors to train the militia."
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Aim for a thousand in five years. More than the clan can handle."
Even a thousand strained us—no full-time training. Boost escorts to a hundred now, recruit fully two years pre-coalition.
We refined the plan through Q&A.
"Why not wait till the coalition forms?"
"We're merchants, not warriors. Allow for trial and error—at least a year training."
"Understood for now. Consult your elder brother."
"Yes."
If rejected, I'd seek Jojo solo. Praying it wouldn't come to that, I left the room.